The Marriage Contract

by Tara Ahmed

  The Marriage Contract

  Copyright © Tara Ahmed 2014

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or

  transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying

  or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher

  To my husband, Shuheb.

  To my ever supporting parents.

  To my siblings, Etiha, Shan, And Joy.

  To Tanni.

  To my sister and brother in laws, Khadijah, Hazera, and Muhith.

  Thank you for everything.

  Chapter One

  My best friend, April, once told me that love at first sight is the moment when two hearts meet, and in that moment, they just know they’re meant to be. It’s rare, she said, but happens all around the world, and to the most unsuspecting people.

  But as I stood against the wall of the fifteenth floor of Hotel Bellevue, my palms gripped over the handle of the towel trolley, my maid’s uniform wrinkled at the knees, my eyes met his. It was that moment, that I knew I’d fallen, but it was not “love” that I’d drowned under. It was something else- something unpleasant, as though I’d drank spoiled milk, with the scent of tangy expiration lingering in my throat.

  The silver lights on the ceiling of the hallway, glowed, as though making way for the tall, graceful man. His dark hair, like that of a raven’s back, swept over his wide forehead, as two large eyes, cloaked with thick lashes, stared at the girl slinked under his veined, thick, porcelain arm. His lips, I noticed, were smeared with a dash of red, and as I stared at the supermodel like woman dangling against his side, I knew the color of blood must have come from her mouth to his. He whispered a sinful something against her neck, to which she giggled mischievously, sucking at the lobe of his ear, not caring who was watching.

  And he, dressed in designer rags, the white silk of his long sleeve top shining under the gossamer lights, stopped for a moment. The woman looked almost surprised- her thick brunette locks swept over her chest, parted between breasts much too large to look real against her pencil thin frame.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his curved, full mouth against her neck.

  The scent of lavender swept under my nostrils, and I wondered whether such a sweet fragrance came from her or him.

  She giggled in response, her light pink maxi dress flowing over his sleek black trousers, her stomach pressed against his.

  “Not here,” she said. “The maid’s here. She’s been staring at us this entire time. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m that kind of girl—“

  His hand pressed against her back a bit tighter, and she gasped, unable to contain her faded red smile.

  “She’s just a maid,” he said. “They can stare at us all they want. She envies you, darling. Then again, I wouldn’t blame her. You’re high class, and they’re…well, they’re not—“

  I cleared my throat, my chest burning at his insult, as his eyes turned towards me.

  It was then that I knew I had fallen in dislike with this stranger. I didn’t care that he was rich, or stared at me with a look of pity in his golden brown eyes. I disliked him because all he would ever see in me, or anyone of my financial status, was that of pity.

  “Have you enjoyed the show?” he asked, releasing his hands from the supermodel.

  He stuffed his hands within the pockets of his silk trousers, and gave me, what I presumed he thought to be a devilish smile.

  He looked more like a smirking hyena to me. I had so much I wanted to say to him then. Something like, “you arrogant, egotistical, maniac. I would never envy a piece of dirt like you!”

  But instead, I kept my poker face, and said, “Excuse me sir. I have to clean this room. If you could kindly step away from the door, I would highly appreciate it.”

  The hotel had taught all the staff to speak politely at all times to the guests, no matter how rude they were. If they touched us, we could sue, but since they never did, we had to keep up the hotel’s good appearance and never speak out of line.

  The place paid well enough for me to survive, but I hated that I had to keep my mouth shut around rude people.

  The supermodel gave me an apologetic smile, and stepped to the side, tugging her jerk boyfriend with her. He stared at me with a blank expression over his pampered face, and stepped to the side.

  “Thank you,” I said, walking around the trolley, and taking out the hotel key from my skirt pocket.

  “Have I offended the pretty maid?”

  I stopped before the door- my ears perked at the sound of his arrogant drawl, as he spoke in a way which I supposed he thought was charming, but instead made him sound like a tired goat.

  Shaking my head, I ignored his bait, opening the door, and giving them both a polite nod. Walking around the trolley, my fists closed tightly on the handle, pushing it towards the open door. My tangerine locks, which resembled a drowning sunset on my good days, and a rotten orange on the other days, was tied in a high bun atop my head, as I made my way towards the door.

  The trolley went halfway through the door, before stopping, as I stared at the tanned hand that rested over the trolley, preventing it from moving.

  “This is cute,” he said. “Such a well behaved maid, aren’t you? How about a tip?”

  I breathed heavily, glaring at his hand, and then at him, my eyes bulging. His brows rose, and I hated that I had given him the satisfaction of showing my annoyance.

  “Sir,” I said. “If you wouldn’t mind—“

  He dug through the pockets of his trousers, taking out a stack of bills, about an inch thick, throwing them into the trolley. Benjamin Franklin’s face stared questioningly at me, as the green paper spread around the powder blue towels like a blanket of leaves.

  “James, that’s enough,” the supermodel scolded.

  My eyes burned, as I stared at the money, not exactly knowing how to react. I’d met snobby people before, but not once had they insulted me to such an extent that I could not raise my head.

  A cold silence crept through the air, and without another thought, I began to gather the money, making sure every piece of green was piled into my hands.

  I could have thrown it at his face then, telling him that although this amount of money was nothing more than chum change for him, for others, it was their bread and water. I could have embarrassed him before his girlfriend, telling him what a piece of dirt he was to be treating anybody the way he treated me.

  But that would be doing exactly what he expected me to do, and I would not give him the satisfaction.

  So instead, I stood straight, turned my head towards him, and smiled. I placed the money into my tip bag at the center of my uniform, and it bulged with the weight of the bills, as I attempted to push the trolley through the door.

  “Sir,” I said. “Could you kindly remove your hand from the trolley?”

  For the first time since I’d had the misfortune of meeting him, his golden eyes no longer glimmered with mirth, and his lips did not extend that arrogant smile. He stared at me with a type of fascination, blinking slowly, as though mesmerized.

  “Your hand,” I repeated, glancing at the palm which appeared to have tightened around the metal of the trolley. “Please remove it. Now.”

  “James, what the hell,” the girl beside him whined. “Let’s go! Stop staring at the help!”

  I would have been insulted by her words, but she hadn’t said anything wrong or false. It was true that I was the help, and it was also true that he was blatantly staring at me with this creepy fascination, his eyes blank but filled with a type of wonder.

  I snapped a finger before him, and he blinked, s
tartled. I shot him an annoyed glance, and he seemed taken aback, as though awakened from hypnosis. The girl looked surprised as well, as her eyes moved from my head to my toes, giving me an unsatisfied grin. She clearly thought he was insane to have been staring at me, and I agreed. I’d been hit on by the jerks at this place before, but never had anyone stared at me like that, and I for one, was not flattered. He had made the absolute worst first impression, and I had no intention of getting involved with him, ever.

  Thankfully, he removed his perfectly manicured hand away from the trolley, and in that moment, I zoomed through the door, closing it. I exhaled a breathe of relief, my heart pounding, as I hoped whoever that guy was, would check out today and never return to my workplace ever again.

  To my luck, the day had gone to its usual routine, and the guests had left fair tips as well. The bulk of money the jerk had thrown at me, still rested in my pouch, tied around a rubber band, as I contemplated what to do with it. Should I return to it to him? No, that would be weird since I had already accepted it and showed him that his actions meant nothing to me.

  As the day neared its end, and I changed into my daily outfit of t-shirt and jeans, I sighed, knowing exactly what to do with the cash.

  Rosefield shelter! They really needed some extra donations, and the money would be more than enough for this month’s food supply.

  I smiled, walking through the tall open door of the hotel, my black purse dangling on a fake leather chain over my shoulder.

  As I headed out the door, I paused, feeling a cool hand tap my shoulder. My heart skipped within my chest, as I glanced at the outline of his shadow, reluctantly inhaling his fragrance.

  Why the hell was he following me?

  The golden eyed rich guy walked around, standing before me, his lips spread in a slight grin.

  Since we were outside the hotel, I had no obligation to be polite to him. As I attempted to walk around him, he slid to the side, blocking my path. I kept my eyes on his shoulder, refusing to give him the gratification of a reply, as I tried to walk past once more, but stopped, as he blocked me, again.

  “Do you need something?” I asked, glaring at him.

  “No,” he shrugged. “I was just dyeing, and I mean, dyeing to know something. Why did you take the money? Usually the poor, no offense to you, though I’m sure you’re still offended…they usually throw the money back at me, insult me, and dramatically exit with their high and mighty egos. The guys try to fight me with their fists, and the girls always try to teach me that they’re not the poor, sad little girl I perceive them to be. But you, my little Princess, did nothing of the sort. In fact, you took the money! I just want to know why. I’m fascinated by human behavior. Truly, I am.”

  I scoffed, taking a step back, my arms crossed over my shoulder.

  Was he for real? Did people like him actually exist? For a moment, I wondered whether I was in one of those hidden camera shows where people meet jerks, and are given a hard time, and then the jerk says, “It’s a prank! You’re on live TV!”

  “Are you…are you for real?” I asked, looking around, searching for the hidden cameras.

  I found it baffling that anyone could be as disgusting as he was being.

  He looked taken aback.

  “I’m as real as they get, sweetheart,” he said, smiling wickedly.

  He ran a hand through his soft brown locks, and took a step towards me, to which I took a step back, my brows furrowed in confusion.

  I placed a palm before him, as if to stop him from nearing. His brows rose, as I slid the hand to my side, and shook my head.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked. “If you’re bored, go find entertainment elsewhere—“

  “Just tell me why you took the money,” he pestered.

  I sighed, and then shrugged.

  “Well, it was a tip,” I said. “And since you’re so generous, I couldn’t deny the money. I’ll use it to buy some shoes. Okay? Bye.”

  His mouth slightly hung open, as I finally managed to walk around him. I could have told him the real reason why I took his tip, and what I intended to do with it, but that would mean that I’m inviting him into my world, and I really didn’t want him anywhere near my life. He was a jerk, and even if he begged for a million years to know why I took his tip, I still wouldn’t tell him. I might be poor, but I had some self-respect.

  The warm rays of spring washed down my neck, as I walked towards the bus stop, inhaling the fresh air. A few people stood at the stop, their eyes tired, and their bodies worn. As I reached the stop, a cool hand circled over my bare elbow, spinning me around, till I hit a sturdy chest.

  The scent of lavender engulfed my senses, as two flat palms pressed against my cheeks, lifting my head up to meet his glimmering stare. Before I could stomp on his toe, his lips met my forehead, and I froze.

  “Hello Dorothy Web,” he whispered, his face only milometers from mine. “You have no idea how long I’ve been searching for you.”

  Chapter Two

  The last time I’d been kissed by a man, was from my father, a few days before he and mom had passed. He had placed a light peck on my cheek, and promised that he’d come see me perform as Juliet in the school play. I was ten, and at that time, he was my world. But twelve years had passed without him, and in those years, I’d learned to keep myself distant from others. I had a few friends, but no one so close that I’d let them touch me. What I hated more than anything, was being touched, for it sent me memories of the parents I could no longer hug, or kiss, or lay my head on their warm lap.

  I had built a cool brick wall between me and everyone else, and not a single person had come close to breaking that barrier. Yet, in a second, this stranger, this rude, egotistical, wealthy stranger, decided it was ok to break my rule.

  I breathed evenly, as the light spring wind blew between us, sending chills from my neck to my toes. A thick lump rested within my chest, as my eyes slowly rose to meet his golden brown stare. His smile was so easy going, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The wind blew through the soft brown of his locks, as his silver shirt swayed gently along the gust. My tangerine like hair rested in a ponytail over my shoulder, as I continued to stare at him, not believing that he had kissed me.

  Anger rose within my chest, simmering like volcanic lava, as my hand rose to meet his cheek, leaving a cold, resounding, slap.

  I had never hit anyone before, and I stared at my palm for a moment, as it shook in the air, hot from the blast. Placing my hand at my side, my face began to heat, as tears engulfed my eyes. I didn’t know why I was reacting so strongly to his light kiss, but all I knew, was that it hurt. His eyes were like my mothers, and his smile was as warm as dad’s, and the more I looked at him, the more I was reminded of the home I no longer had.

  “Don’t touch me,” I hissed, staring at his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are? Just because you’re rich, doesn’t mean you have the right to lay your dirty hands on me. I’m not some naïve girl that’s going to be swept off her feet by the likes of you! I don’t know how you know my name, or what you want with me, but I swear if you come near me again, you’ll regret it—“

  The harsh sound of his laughter broke through our silence, as my gaze rose to meet his. There was that light, easy going stare of his- a smile graced over his nude lips.

  “Oh, God, you’re dramatic,” he laughed. “Let me tell you something, Princess. I’ve been slapped so many times, you would not believe it. Just this morning, some girl I didn’t remember from last night, got all offended when I asked her what the hell she was doing in my bed, naked no less. And you know what she did? She slapped me, but it wasn’t a good one. She was a bit scrawny, like you, but her palm had no power in it. Your slap, on the other hand, definitely beats hers, but not the girl from last week. Now, look here. That last week chick slapped me so hard- I had to visit the dentist right after. It was a mess. Your slap, it was a bit of an in-between. Your hand is so soft as well—“


  I scoffed, shaking my head.

  “Are you…are you teasing me?” I placed a hand on my hip, tilting my head, and giving him an incredulous stare.

  He winked. “You catch on quick, Princess—“

  “Stop calling me that—“

  “Calling you what?”

  “Princess!”

  Wait. Why was I standing there, in the middle of the street, arguing with him? He was insane. A total mad man, and I would not stand to talk to him a minute longer.

  With that thought, I turned, walking ahead, and ignoring the people staring at me. A small crowd had gathered from afar, watching with curiosity, and mumbling amongst themselves.

  “She’s a feisty one,” some elderly lady whispered as I passed by the bus stop.

  “He’s cute,” some bubble gum smacking teenage girl said.

  “He’s insane!” I barked, startling her. “But if you’re interested, then please talk to him, and get him to leave me alone!”

  She took a step back, her deep brown pony tail swinging over a spaghetti strapped shoulder. I glared at her, before pushing past- annoyed. I proceeded to take the subway home instead of my usual bus route. I didn’t want to be stared at the entire ride home, and also, I didn’t want him to follow me.

  His legs could match a cheetah, for as I reached the subway, he zoomed forward, and stood before me. He towered over me, his hands placed by his sides, as his eyes stared at me in a friendly way, as though he’d known me for ages.

  I took a step back, my eyes narrowed.

  “I slapped you,” I said. “In front of all those people, I humiliated you. Don’t you hate me? A normal person would hate me—“

  “Normal is overrated,” he shrugged. “Besides, like I said before, I really have been searching all over for you—“

  “I don’t want to talk to you. And you know what? Take back your stupid tip!”

  Zipping open my black bag, I took out the stack of bills placed around a rubber band, thrusting it within the front pocket of his expensive shirt.